Harry Potter and the Forbidden Midnight Love Magical Experience
by Thurman Murman
Summary: Step into a world of magicks, wizardry, and forbidden old man on young boy love (or vice-versa; Harry also be dom): The story of a young elderly Dumbledore falling in love with a very mature but 'LEGALLY' 'under-age' boy wizard sex maniac prodigy Harry Jamal LeBron Potter! A story not unlike the greatest Nathaniel Hawthorne tales of our time, get ready to experience sexual magic!


So once there was upon a time once a man upon who he was once named Dumbledore (yes that's his name, don't believe me? Fine, faggot) and he was the king of the wizards, or the Prime Minister of the wizards, or something kind of like that, like the Grand Wizard of Fuckery. And, it wasn't gay, but he loved him some little boys – especially particularly specifically this lil boy wizard named Harry Jamal Potter. Now see, Harry was like eleven, but Dumbledore was always like "He acts _SO_ much older though, like it's crazy, you wouldn't even know he wasn't way older if you didn't know he was only eleven." So just get off his case, okay? It sounds legit to me, totally no way he'd be considered a child fucker. If you think that's weird, Hagrid lives alone in a hut outside of the school with nothing but fucking dogs and birds and weird shit like that to keep him 'company' (remember he's a giant, so his dick is like the size of a fetal sealion) I mean he's like the british giant fictitious version of your lonely dyke aunt who has like 106 Dalmations (and all of them have different diseases, amirite?). Plus the age of consent in J.K. Rowling's old school limey timey magical London-esque hidden castle province is probably like way younger than most places, even Mexico, where you can be like 6 and legally drink in broad daylight in the middle of the unpaved roads and it's not even illegal. So anyways Dumbeldore was creepin at like 3 am just in the middle of the street in Londontown, United Britain, in Harry's neighborhood and he was like "Oh yeah I'm so gonna score tonight. I just ate a shitload of some fudge and creamcorn and I'mmoh GIT it" and he was so gonna get it, like he seriously ate so much fudge I was surprised because that must've been a world record or some shit, like holy fuck someone call the Guiness guys because who the fuck eats that much fudge and isn't 800 pounds? If you're going to do that to your body, you may as well get an award for it I mean shit, what's a priceless picture of you in a god damn yearly fuckbook with your face all sweaty and dirty like you've been sleeping in garbage for a year and fudge all over your dry and cracked old man lips? Versus the $200 you just spent on the 'homemade' (yeah fuckin RIGHT) fudge pools at the Hometown Buffet? Those Hometown Buffet bitches were all like, "The brownies are free!... why do you want to _pay_ for the desert fudge when you could just have brownies?" and you knew, you were like "because those brownies been back there since last fucking Wednesday and you set them next to the cooked spinach you simple bitch." So I mean an award would be dope, but it's like, IS IT ENOUGH? That's basically like the little toy prize you get from a Happy Meal. Also I never really got that, it's like is this my prize for finishing my meal or is this to entice me to eat like some kind of a fucking mongrel animal? Or is it like a fucking piece of shit desert you can't eat? Can I trade this fucking thing for three extra nuggets, is it like a currency? I'm a 90 pound 8 year old and I'm starving, Jesus Christ someone please trade me this pony for some fucking NUGGETS. Why would I want a sweaty fucking fry smelling plastic toy wrapped in industrial strength god damn clear admantium sheathe plastic probably giving my food a nice radioactive flavor to it? Seriously though they wrap those god damn things worse than when you buy a pair of headphones (the cheap $20 ones, because it's like you want to feel like you're not completely poor so you pass on those $5 Gummies at the register but you know you ain't stacked enough to drop dong on those dope ass fucking gayfuck Bose Fuckyou Silence Headphones locked up in the Target Electronics section where you ask that old fuck who's been working there like forty years if you can get some FUCKING help opening up this case: "Why do you want in the case?" "So I can buy these, you geriatric Alzheimer's FUCK. Bring your fucking TRON keys over here and open this faggy thing so I can buy these and get the fuck out of this redneck zoo." Also plus who the hell decided the 90 year old WWI veteran needed to work in the electronics section? Of all places, seriously? He should be working outside, in the fucking grave plot and tombstone section of the Target, outside of the gardening center. But yeah anyways so you settle for the $20 headphones because you want to feel like you haven't given up on life yet) and it's like a SAW trap just trying to get the package open without slitting your own throat buy accident. I hope all that extra shit helped you get into the mood for this smut, because it's just getting started. If you're having trouble getting hard like a normal person (I assume you're male because?... It's Harry PotterxXxDumbledore buttlove fanfiction?) just picture an old man hundreds of years old in basically a really shiny looking French bathrobe hunched over just floating across the cobblestone streets of some nameless fucking Disneyland-inspired neighborhood getting his lips all soppy wet and breathing real heavy thinking about fucking a little androgynous looking boy with magical powers and a weird fetish for letting his pet owl pluck cranberries out of his asshole. If that doesn't do it for you, then STOP READING RIGHT NOW BECAUSE TRIGGER WARNING IT'S ABOUT TO GET GRAPHIC.


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